Stand Off
by DragonMouse
Summary: short li'l thing, 1st JAGfic WM implied. I DON'T KNOW! Just read!


A/N: My first JAG fanfic. Be kind, please. This is really kinda strange, you know? I am normally a Mac/Harm 'shipper, but I LOVE this 'ship when I'm reading. *shrug* What can I say? I'm weird. :)  
  
A Moment in Time  
By: DragonMouse ~( 8  
  
A hotel Outside Pensacola Naval Air Base 2117 hours, local time  
  
She knew. How could she know? I am the master of secrets, always keeping my feelings hidden, secreted away under lock and key, nothing slipping through my mask. And yet. I could swear that there was understanding in her eyes as she watched. No one knew she was there, though. The Marine is just as good as I am at hiding, though her talent is physical, not emotional as mine is.  
  
Her eyes widened at my refusal to reveal any information as to her where abouts. She'd known from the beginning that she was dispensable in favor of the completed mission. While the Admiral would be pissed beyond measure, perhaps to the point of trying to bring some sort of charges against me or the men ultimately in charge, she was technically allowed to die to protect the safety of the mission. In fact, both of us are dispensable. Reports had been made with every discovery, so we aren't keeping valuable information in our heads that would be lost should both of us bite the big one.  
  
No matter the technicalities, I couldn't let her die. It was beyond a doubt that is what would happen if they found her finding place and drug her out, sprawling her across the carpet. As soon as she moved a muscle, they'd put a bullet in her brain. Bam, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Then it'd be my turn. I've done it myself or been witness on more then one occasion.  
  
"Where is she?" our main guy growled out again. The barrel of a Baretta dug further into my temple, but I didn't flinch. Instead I smirked. The smirk that I'm sure drives Mac completely up the wall. If only it had the same effect that Rabb's patented flyboy grin had on her.  
  
"If you leave now, you might catch up to her at about I95. Maybe. But this is a woman in a hurry, you never know how fast she may be going." Misdirection is fun.  
  
Until they punch you in the kidney. God, I'll never get used to that. I lean back in the chair they have me strapped to, trying to breathe through the pain. "Who is she running to? Which part of the government's alphabet soup sent you to bother us?"  
  
"She's not running /to/ anyone. They know all they need to right now. She's going to ground. You'll never see her again. Until your trial, that is. She'll be a star witness. Knows what she's doing, and what to say to bring juries crashing down on your backs." Again I smirked and again the gun dug into my skin. Apparently, the gunman didn't like hearing that they'd go to jail. Well, what the hell did he think would happen? They could just funnel money from the Navy budget into funding terrorist functions and just walk away without any attention in their direction? I pull slightly at the restraints binding me to the chair. Zip ties. Gotta hate them. A lot more effective then duct tape, easier to carry then rope, and they sure do dig into your skin.  
  
"Quit that," the nervous guy with the gun commanded. Does he really think I'll escape? Zip ties hurt. I'm not desperate enough to try to pull my hand off to get away yet. After all, the cavalry is on its way. Mac called for help right before the bastards got in. All I have to do is wait them out and keep her safe. "I said quit it!" He punched me in the jaw. Fucking class ring. I lick the blood off the corner of my mouth and glare at him, but I stop all the same.  
  
The cavalry is coming, I repeat in my head like a centering mantra. As much as I hate relying on someone else to get us, and most important Mac, out safely, they will have more guns then I do. I stared longingly at my gun, sitting lonely on the dresser behind the boss man. /Leave them be and quit provoking them,/ Mac's eyes spoke volumes. /The cops are on their way. Quit trying to get the tar beat out of you./ I want to think she wants me to survive because of the realization that she made. That my regard for her, my protection of her forsaking my own well-being, was all because I saw her in more then a professional role. In more then a friendship role as well.  
  
"-On't need to be staring at that gun, boy," I came back to the rather one-sided conversation the boss man was having with me a little late. "It isn't going to do you any good. I think we may just splatter your brains unless you start talking right now. We want her. And we can probably find her on our own. Your cooperation will just earn you a little bit easier of a time. Maybe we'll just incapacitate you instead of killing you. How's that sound?"  
  
"Is that supposed to be appealing?" I sneer. Another punch to the face follows, right below the eye this time. Mac's eyes flinch, then she glares at me. She's mad at me for getting myself beat up. I'd laugh, but that'd arouse suspicion, and probably get me punched again. That whole, "I'll give you something to laugh about!" mentality. God, what is taking so long? Time was that mentioning rank would get you police in less than ten minutes. It's been at least twenty since they'd been called.  
  
I was about to say something in response to the most recent blow, something that would likely earn me another due to my sarcasm, when the door shuddered. Chaos erupted in the room as the boss and another thug I hadn't heard much from scrambled, searching for a place to escape to or to make a stand from. The gunman was left to guard me and he was prancing nervously from foot to foot, eyeing the door, me, and his partners in crime, all at the same time. The door shuddered again, bursting inwards and SWAT members flooded through it; guns at the ready, muzzles sweeping the room. Outside, the eager, ferocious bark of a K9 echoed off the walls, ready and raring to do his job.  
  
Then gunfire blasted. So close, it made my ears ring and I tried to duck my head as far into my chest as I could, but I had a feeling it might not work out as well as I hoped. Pain lanced through me again and I knew that once again I was right. The day was really going down hill. That was my last thought before everything went black.  
  
~end~ ~( 8  
  
A/N: Sure you guessed by now that that was Webb. And I'm leaving how it ends up to you, Lovely Reader. Does he live? Die? Get together with Mac? It is all how you want it to end. *bows* 


End file.
